Fantasy Game Drabbles
by RotatingWorld
Summary: These drabbles are inspired by one of the fantasy game questions for the episode 5x19. The question was "What do Callie and Arizona do on their date?" There were only four options, but I chose "All of the Above," and then wrote them.


These drabbles are inspired by one of the fantasy game questions for the episode airing 3/26. If you don't want to be spoiled even a teensy weensy amount, don't read them!

**What will Callie and Arizona do on their date?**

Dance

Watch a movie

Sing karaoke

Go bowling

None of the above

**  
Dance**

Arizona slides into a spot, pulling the emergency brake and cutting the ignition. "We're here."

"Where's here, exactly?" Callie's eyes search the lot for some hint of their location.

"You'll see." Arizona flashes a smile and pushes her car door open. With one leg out the door she pauses and turns back to her date. "You look incredible by the way. That dress?" her eyes cling to Callie's neckline, "I mean…Wow." And out the door she goes.

Callie can't unbuckle her belt fast enough.

Past a few restaurants and a number of upscale bars, Arizona stalls at a large glass window, fogged and glowing from the inside.

"Is this it?" Callie asks.

"Yep."

Callie leans into the glass, straining to make out the hazy figures inside. She hears a strain of merengue, glimpses a flash of leg, a metallic pump. "A salsa class?!"

"Is that okay? I've always wanted to try."

"Baby," Callie turns to her, "I don't need a class. I could give the lessons."

She makes for the door, Arizona hot on her heels.

**Watch a movie**

"I am so, so sorry."

"It's okay."

"Like really, truly sorry."

"It could have been worse."

"Not by much."

"No, not by much. That's true."

The women hover outside of Callie's apartment. Arizona had insisted she walk her to the door and Callie's loathe to go inside, but she's unpracticed at this – the woman/woman goodbye. She's used to, well, walking out. Or being walked out on.

"I bet your shoes are sticky, too. My shoes are sticky."

"My shoes _are_ sticky. And," Arizona's mouth curls sweetly at the corners, "you kinda smell like popcorn."

"Oh God, really?" Callie sniffs the collar of her jacket, mortified.

"Hey," the blonde chides her, "I'm not complaining."

She leans forward, meeting Callie's lips. The other woman relaxes into the kiss. Arizona eases her date to the wall and brings an arm up for leverage as they deepen it. Callie's eyes are closed and something's going crazy right below her stomach. The butterflies, she thinks, right before the cold air alerts her that Arizona's broken their kiss. She opens her eyes to see the woman hovering just a few inches away.

"I really, really like popcorn." With that, Arizona straightens up and heads to the elevator.

"Goodnight, Calliope," she throws over her shoulder. " Sweet dreams."

As the doors close, Callie peels herself from the wall.

"Super."

**Sing karaoke**

Arizona elbows her way back to the corner of the bar where she last left her date thoroughly enjoying a middle-aged man's interpretation of "American Pie." The poor guy is throwing back shots now, a few seats down the bar, and a gaggle of bachelorette celebrants have taken his place to belt out "I Will Survive."

"Long line?" Callie asks, scooting a dirty martini in the blonde's direction. Arizona settles back onto her stool. "Not particularly long."

"Oh. It's just, I wondered. You left me alone. With them." Callie less-than-discreetly points out a table across the room, a trio of leering fraternity types. They catch her gesture and start formulating a plan of attack. It's sad and predictable, and Callie knows she'll have to start fending them off just as soon as they settle on who'll hit on her first.

Arizona takes it all in. "Oh God. Sorry. It's just, I had to go through the book. It was a big book, and, you know, there's some pressure to pick something that's a little romantic, or maybe a bit of a throwback, a crowdpleaser. Then you have to think about your vocal range, lyrics. You don't want to pick something you'll forget…it's tough! But I think I chose well for us."

Callie quirks an eyebrow. "What?"

Arizona catches her breath and breaks into a grin. "The song book?"

"Shut up. You did not."

"But I did?"

"Can we leave? Now, please?" Callie unhooks her purse from beneath the bar and starts shuffling around in search of a twenty.  
"Calliope! Where's your sense of adventure?"

"Karaoke isn't adventure. It's painful, public torture. Really, let's leave before they call us."

Frat brother three has made his advance and now insinuates himself between the women, leaning in toward the brunette as she searches her wallet.

"Hey beauti-"

"You know what?" Callie rounds on him, tossing her purse onto the bar and squaring her shoulders, "You should just TURN. AROUND. I'm gay now, okay? GAY! And not interested in you or any of your friends, you drooling preadolescent. GAY!"

The song ends as Callie's last word rings across the room. Stunned, the boy holds up his hands in surrender, backs away from the bar, and retreats to his friends, who start howling with laughter.

The karaoke deejay clears his throat into the mic. "And now we've got Arizona and Cal-lee-ope, with that modern classic, Katy Perry's 'I Kissed A Girl.'"

Callie looks to Arizona. "Fuck it," she says, "Let's do this."

**Go bowling**

A pitcher of chill beer and two tumblers in hand, Callie weaves her way back through the clusters of teenagers and families with pizza-faced children. She reaches the benches just as Arizona presses the last button – her date has taken responsibility for the electronic scorekeeper.

"We good to go?" Callie asks, setting out the drinks. Arizona glances at the video screen projecting their grid, then gets up to collect her beer. "All set."

Callie finishes pouring and pushes the glass over. "I hope IPA's okay."

Arizona takes a sip, then another, longer swallow. Callie watches the subtle muscles of her neck work. "It's delicious," Arizona concludes.

"Yeah...."

The women hover on either end of the raised table, trading adolescent smiles. Arizona breaks the silence. "Your turn."

"Huh?"

"You remember how we were going to roll the balls at the pins?"

Callie pauses, narrowing her eyes. "You're a little clever, aren't you?"

"A little."

Callie sets her beer on the table and walks toward the rack of gaudily colored bowling balls, selecting a magenta 12-pounder flecked with mica. Before she reaches the lane, she falters, her eyes caught by the scoreboard.

"Really?" she turns to Arizona. "Really now?"

Arizona shrugs and buries her smile behind her glass.

"You will pay, Dimples."

With that, first player "TASTY" takes a running swing and sinks her ball directly in the gutter.


End file.
